


Here you come again

by CainAndEmma



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-04
Updated: 2020-08-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:08:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25717072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CainAndEmma/pseuds/CainAndEmma
Summary: inspired by the incredible fic At the Top of the World. A glimpse of Sokka and Zuko in that same universe, after another disagreement.
Relationships: Sokka/Zuko (Avatar)
Kudos: 5





	Here you come again

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [At the Top of the World](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5363663) by [Lady_of_the_Flowers](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_of_the_Flowers/pseuds/Lady_of_the_Flowers). 



Sokka saw him sitting at the bar before he even stepped through the door. In truth, it felt like he’d been seeing the image of Zuko at this bar for hours and days beforehand, before even knowing about the place or ever having been to this part of Anchorage. Like Zuko had always been here, waiting for him. In this exact setting, with the jukebox blinking in the back corner, and the empty glass in front of him, one of many, and his head hung low, of course. Suit completely out of place in an establishment this shabby, and finding that he didn’t even care, that it was in fact perfect for his mood. None of those high grade martinis in tall stilted glasses, not today. Cheap things, materials, booze, the sort of thing guaranteed to leave you with a nasty headache, and maybe passing out at some point and knowing no one here would care, that it’d be nothing out of the ordinary. Perfect. They’d known each other for a total of very few days and already Sokka felt confident he knew his way around the other man’s head. His drunk self, however, even more of a minefield than usual, was a different matter.  
“What are you doing here?” Zuko practically blanched. It didn’t seem like he saw this as a happy surprise. “I wanted to apologise. Is it alright if I-?” Sokka nodded towards the chair next to him, wanting to get on eye level and not loom over Zuko like this. He still looked caught off guard, confused. “Why didn’t you just call?”. Sitting, grabbing a menu-what was wrong with him- Sokka’s eyes flashed back to him, trying to assess the damage. “It felt pretty important. You also didn’t reply to any of my texts so I wasn’t sure you wanted to talk to me.” “I look terrible.” “You’re fine.” “Terrible.” Zuko was eyeing the glass, miserable, obviously torn between ordering another one and trying not to make an even worse impression than he already had. Deciding the situation was probably beyond salvaging he gestured the barkeep. Sokka wanted to tear his clothes off then and there. Even just that movement, the way he was leaning forward and causing the suit jacket to stretch over his taut shoulders, tense like a bow seconds before the string snaps, it was too much. Those shoulders spelled out a question he felt compelled to answer. Everything in Sokka was asking, urging him to charge forward and not look back at the silhouette he’d leave behind, several feet away, awkwardly assessing. They’d melt into one another right there and now and it would be the same tumbling bliss it had been out on the ice.  
Dolly Parton started singing and Zuko groaned, practically growled, and if possible his head sank even lower. “Look, I..I get that this isn’t ideal. But really, I was wrong about you. I misjudged you. And I had to see you to tell you how shitty I felt about how things went down.” “It wasn’t your fault.” “Will you look at me please?” lifting his face incrementally his eyes met Sokka’s and, god, how wary he looked. As always the colour made his breath catch, ever so slightly, but this time they were open in every sense of the word, as unguarded as he’d ever seen him. He was obviously very close to losing it, more vulnerable than ever before, even on his knees before the couch, or later in the bedroom. It was a kind of begging to be put out of his misery, to not be this confused any longer. Put me down already, those eyes told him, and Sokka wanted nothing more than to pull him into his arms and stay that way until they were asked to leave. So that’s what he did, or tried to do, because they were at an awkward distance and he had to half slide of his chair and nearly knocked an empty bottle off the counter. Zuko almost fell off his own seat in the process, though that may have been partially due to the scotch. But then Sokka had him, finally had him, and while Zuko didn’t hug him back he still let it happen and took it all in. Sokka felt like he was trying to hold something together that was very much on the verge of crumbling to pieces, a cracked vase maybe, or a window smashed apart by a rogue baseball, but only milliseconds after the impact so that the glass is still suspended in the frame for the time being, held up by thin air and your mind slowed down to a screeching halt. The shards were bound to end up hurting him if he kept holding on quite so tightly but Sokka didn’t care and the thought only made him hold on tighter. Inhaling the smell of Zuko's black, black hair and taut skin, the sweat, the liquor.  
Zuko seemed to sink into the embrace incrementally, a child slowly trusting the water will keep it afloat on its back without pedalling or resisting. And while they didn’t melt into each other like he’d thought they might that was worth more to Sokka than he could have imagined or explained. So he let that happen, too. He gave Zuko time. To lose his posture, to go practically limp under Sokka's hands. Sokka knew, then, that he would continue to let all sorts of things happen where this man was concerned, whatever else was to come. Whatever he might need. “Let’s get out of here.”


End file.
